Angel's Share — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

45 Grove St at Bleecker St, West Village

The Place: An iconic and celebrated Japanese-style cocktail bar that’s nearly as old as I am, now in its new home in the West Village.

The Time: Thursday July 23, 5:15pm. I spent the day uptown with my mom and on the subway back to Brooklyn, I realize it’s been nearly a month since my last review. So I hop off the train at Bleecker and meander west, my phone in my bag, the sun on my face. As a professional cocktail person, I like to think I’ve been to all the legendary cocktail bars in this town, the pioneers of New York drinking culture that are still standing. But when I get to Grove Street, it dawns on me that I still haven’t made it to Angel’s Share 2.0. Time to change that!

The Vibe: The OG Angel’s Share opened in 1993 in the East Village and closed in 2020 due to landlord disputes. It was one of the city’s first speakeasies of its kind–you had to go up a flight of stairs and enter through an unmarked door in the back of an izakaya restaurant, and you had to KNOW to do this. Now, this version of Angel’s Share, reopened in 2023, is down a flight of stairs in a townhouse, with a fairly obvious letter grade card in the window. (Knowing this didn’t stop me from walking right past it and beginning to ascend the steps next door before realizing my mistake.) There’s a small waiting room in the front entrance, where I encounter a host behind a desk. One of the notable aspects of the original bar was its set of rules, which are still in place here: no parties larger than four, no reservations, no standing. So I get why I have to wait in this little vestibule before being ushered into the actual bar. Doesn’t mean it’s not an awkward two minutes of just me and the host looking at each other.

Angel’s Share is a cornerstone in the city’s cocktail scene that’s still extremely popular, so I’m surprised to find it fairly empty, which I can only chock up to the time of day (and year, possibly). I’m seated at the nearest corner of the bar, evenly spaced from two other solo imbibers. The original cherub-cloudscape mural was transplanted to this new space, and as I gaze at it, I’m thrust back in time to my first experience at Angel’s Share: I was a 23-year-old green bartender on a date, and I remember being far more impressed by the drinks than I was with him. The painted cherubs and I have come so far.

The atmosphere is polished and intimate, with supremely low lighting, a lot of hardwood, and a soundtrack of what I can now only think of as “Defiant Jazz.” In other words, it’s straight out of 2007, and I would expect nothing less.

The Bartender: This is the kind of bar that takes its drinks seriously, so naturally, everyone is wearing a vest. Thankfully, one of the bartenders is a woman! But I don’t really get to chat with her, since it’s the server who greets me, takes my order, and refills my water so swiftly that it seemingly appears from thin air.

The Drank: The menu is another vestige from a bygone cocktail era: it’s leather-bound, has worn paper pages, and the long list of cocktails is organized by spirit type. (The prices are certainly new-school, I don’t think there’s anything under $23.) I go with the Stolen Moments, made of gyokuro green tea-infused gin, sake, elderflower, and sundried tomato. It’s poured into a big v-glass placed in front of me, with the garnish down first, and is a dead ringer for a dirty martini variation, and yet, doesn’t taste like one at all. The green tea gives off an earthiness that pairs well with the florality of the elderflower and the umami of the sundried tomato. It’s complex and perplexing, and I must have a deeply furrowed brow because the bartender asks if I like it. I do, but it’s one of the stranger drinks I’ve ever had, and I’ve created some weird shit in my time (lookin’ at you, radish mezcal and matzah-infused bourbon).

My intention was to be one and done, but I look down the bar and see a bottle of 18-year-old Japanese whisky in front of a guy who looks like he’s 18 himself (he’s obviously not, since they check IDs at the door, but he certainly looks youthful!). A quick Google tells me how much the retail price of the bottle is, and I MUST know how much they’re charging for a two-ounce pour, so I ask to see the menu again. Guys, it’s $87 so I decide this dude is either an heiress or in severe debt.

Just as I’m making up a fake scenario about this potential prince, my server asks what I’d like to drink next because duh, I’m looking at the menu, so I make a split-second decision. My second cocktail, the Blue in Green, is an outrageously drinkable French 75 variation, with yogurt-clarified gin, yuzu, basil and champagne. It’s a banger.

Was I Hit On? / Did I Make Friends?: Wow, thank you for asking! I am not hit on by the possible teenage insolvent, but I spend quite a bit of time chatting with a couple who sit down next to me, here from North Carolina for their anniversary (hi Ellis and Hayden!). “This is a foodie trip, so where should we eat and drink?” Good thing I have a drink because I’ve got a lot of thoughts!!

Should You Drink Here Alone?: Yes! I was one of many folks who came in looking to enjoy a cocktail or two on their own. Angel’s Share may be an oldie, but it’s still certainly a goodie.